Roots, a poem written by Win Cadman at Spillwords.com

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Roots

Win Cadman·June 11, 2021

English Poetry

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Roots

written by: Win Cadman

our roots are not strong
buried deep as will suffice
embodiment of Terra warm and damp
granules tightly packed
anxious preservation of souls’ shaft
challenging limits of federated gritty brawn
our foliage gets heavy
unabashed in life’s course
heavy lush green burdensome to the cross
soaking up the rain
basking in the sun
dancing in the wind
challenging limits of federated gritty brawn

“Consider the extent of the threshold in me,
I was once a tiny seed…an aspiring tree.”

we amass more baggage
heads detached from our feet
languidly
imperceptibly
untenably
we cave

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

The quotation part is the cry for relief from the tree…too much weight to bear.
As in our own lives our souls cry out as well. We rarely listen.

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Win Cadman

I’m a music educator of cello and piano, and orchestra and rock band director at school. A firm believer that modern day living leaves us emotionally detached from ourselves and others, I am constantly pursuing every emotion with the sole purpose of experiencing the feeling. I also believe this is not my first life, but it is my last.

Lou Storey

A textbook example of nominative determinism, Lou Storey has always been a storyteller, a fact well illustrated in his art and in his writing. His careers have reflected that as well, first as a creator of idea-based exhibitions for museums, and later as a psychotherapist employing narrative therapies. His art and his writing share qualities of rich texture and detail, examining our capacity to be absurd while allowing a measure of forgiveness for our foibles. Storey and his husband Steve retired in 2021 and moved from New Jersey to Savannah Georgia. “We love everything about Savannah, it is like a city that looks like a park and thinks it’s a small town. Best of all, we can grow bananas in the backyard!”

Treats Only, Please! by Lauren Scott

Creepy cackles from tall, looming trees
startle their jumpy heartbeats as they walk.
Shadows discreetly follow the echoes
while they timidly proceed down the block.

Young voices repeat with conviction,
“It’s just a night for entertainment.”
There’s no need for goosebumps and fear
as their eyes focus on the cracked pavement.

Undeniably sensing they’re not alone,
many follow in their hesitant footsteps,
eager to reach doors and push doorbells
but afraid of frightening special effects....

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